


Leave me something to remember you by

by gesugao



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Gun play, M/M, Persona 5 Spoilers, Rivals to Friends to Lovers to Enemies then back to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-25 05:12:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10757394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gesugao/pseuds/gesugao
Summary: Akira tries to save Goro from the world, other people, and himself.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> here's some happy, some sad, in little snapshots. please enjoy.

Goro Akechi was annoying.

“It's getting colder out again. To be honest, I'm sort of relieved. It's much easier to get around on bike without the sun blazing down on you. And, it's a good excuse to bother you for more coffee,” Goro smiled and the room lit up like fluorescent lights, artificial and blinding. Akira was rubbing porcelain cups down with a cloth absentmindedly, his gaze focused downward. That smile vexed him, everything about Goro was fake and bright and squeaky clean and made for HD TV.

_I'm glad you realize it's a bother._

No.

_If the weather is so great for biking then why don't you—_

Ugh.

“Yeah. Good thing you have your little sweater vest thing.”

Goro laughed into his cup and then set it down. Akira felt his eyes right on him now, fond and soft as they always were. He didn't get it. There was no reason for Goro to spend all this time having one sided conversations with him, especially when it was clear he didn't even want to squeeze information on the Phantom Thieves out of him.

“Yeah, good thing! You should invest in one. Well...it might clash with your uniform.” Akira glanced up at that, for what reason he wasn't sure, and Goro latched onto him like a snake biting down on a mouse that didn't know where else to run. “It's really nice of you to make me coffee all the time, Akira.”

“Uh, you pay like every other customer.”

“Of course. But...when _you_ make coffee there's something a little different about it. I don't know. It tastes just a little sweeter,” another small smile and Akira almost dropped the cup he was holding. “You have a real talent for it.”

“Thank you.”

“What's the secret ingredient? There must be one.”

_Love._

Ugh.

_Spit._

Who knows, he might like that.

“Just patience, I suppose,” Akira answered flatly and turned to put away the cups. He could hear another sip from behind him and then the gentle tink of porcelain on porcelain, and he wanted nothing more than for the front door to open and a wave of elderly patrons to come in and insult his curry. But it was dark and quiet outside, he knew that Goro would be his last customer of the day and he was making the minutes stretch on and on.

“That makes a lot of sense. Perhaps I'm too impatient to make good coffee,” Goro mused, mostly to himself. Akira quickly finished up the last of his nightly chores and turned to him, leaning over the counter so that Goro wouldn't catch him off guard again.

“We're closing for the night, sorry.”

“Don't be, I'd hate to keep you any longer.” Goro slid off his stool and grabbed his jacket off of the one next to him. He pulled it over his arms and glanced outside, then back at Akira. “There's a food festival happening tomorrow in Yurakucho. If you like yakitori, we could go together.”

_No._

_Hell no._

“I'll think about it,” Akira replied with a halfhearted smile. “Can I have your contact info so I can let you know?”

Mission accomplished, that succeeded at catching Goro off guard. He almost stumbled even though he was standing still, but righted himself as Akira gave him his phone to enter his information. He complied hastily, then handed it back, now finally in a hurry to leave. Akira smiled. The mouse had barely escaped.

“I hope to hear from you,” Goro managed, with one last wary smile before turning and leaving Leblanc. Akira watched him go, then closed up shop and headed upstairs in a hurry. Morgana, roused from a nap in the moonlight, cast one look at him and then rolled over and dozed off.

 **Joker:** Akechi wants to go to Yurakucho tomorrow.  
**Skull:** ??????????  
**Queen:** Why?  
**Joker:** Yakitori.  
**Oracle:** Is it a date?  >:3c  
**Joker:** Don't know yet.  
**Queen:** I can't tell if you're being serious about that or not.  
**Queen:** Regardless, are you planning on going?  
**Joker:** Also don't know yet.  
**Skull:** Is he paying? Dude, free yakitori.  
**Fox:** If that's the case, may I join you?  
**Panther:** I think what Makoto was getting at is that it might be a good opportunity to talk to Akechi and see what information he has on the case while his guard is down.  
**Queen:** That's exactly what I was getting at, thank you.  
**Noir:** You really think he'd talk about the case so freely?  
**Skull:** Akechi did invite him, maybe he thinks he's gonna get information out of Akira.  
**Queen:** That's also likely.  
**Panther:** In which case it's a good idea to go then, right?  
**Panther:** So we can get the upperhand.  
**Joker:** Well, guess I'm going then.  
**Noir:** It's up to you!  
**Oracle:** Bring back yakitori!!  
**Joker:** Alright, wish me luck.

Akira closed the chat and collapsed onto bed, startling Morgana who jumped off and curled up on the sofa instead. He stared at Goro's contact information, finger hovering over the IM icon, moving millimeters forward then backing off again. He still had time to say no, just like he was planning on doing in the first place. Still, it was for the good of the group.

 **Akira:** I'm down to go tomorrow. I'll meet you there.

He rolled over and pulled the blankets over himself.

_Good of the group…_

Sure. That was exactly why he was going.

\-------------------------

Akira stared. It was surprisingly warmer today than expected, and both of them were overheating in their sweaters as they were baked by the rising heat from the grills lining the streets. Goro reached up gently moved a lock of hair that was sticking to his forehead. Ah, a crack in the visage. _He does get sticky and gross like the rest of us humans._

It was two hours into their outing and Goro hadn't mentioned the Phantom Thieves or catching dastardly villains even once. On the contrary, the talk had been almost entirely on food, how good the food was, and a comment on the weather every 10 minutes or so.

“It's so nice to...get away from work once in a while,” he said softly, happily, twiddling a cleaned skewer between his fingers. “I feel like a normal teenager here. And it's mostly older people so I don't think anyone has really recognized me yet.”

“Must be nice to be famous.”

“Hm,” he thought for a moment. “Well obviously I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it, otherwise I wouldn't be doing it. But it is hard to have everything you say constantly picked apart, scrutinized, and to have some amount of responsibility to the public. Isn't that an awful lot to lay on a 17 year old's shoulders?”

 _Responsibility to the public...scrutinized..._ “Yeah I have no clue what that's like.”

Goro studied him for only a fraction of a second, and then shrugged a little and grinned. “Then you're the lucky one, not me.”

Akira continued to stare. There was a very apparent sadness in the way he had said that. Goro wasn't even trying to hide his bitterness at the situation, and Akira got the sense that for some reason...Goro was comfortable with showing that side of himself to him. The side that wasn't all syrupy sweet smiles and Dashing Detective Prince tonight at 7. The cracks were widening and spidering out and Goro either didn't seem to notice or care.

“Do you...” Akira paused for the exact right words. The mouse was staring down the snake, he didn't want to make the wrong move and jump right into its mouth. “Have anyone you can talk to about it?”

“...sorry?”

“You know, like a friend. Who you can talk to.”

Goro stared back, mouth slightly agape, eyes minutely flicking left and right across Akira's. “I...suppose...not. Problems should be solved on your own, don't you think?”

“No.”

“I...oh,” Goro laughed and glanced away, plainly desperate for a way to resolve this conversation and still come out on top. To smooth out his cracks. “Of course. Well, I tend to feel like I'm able to work through things best on my own. Best not to burden others.”

Akira increased the pressure. “It's not a burden. That's what friends are for.”

“You're probably right,” Goro replied in a tone just short of an outright snap, a forced smile on his face that stretched a little too wide. It was clear he wanted the conversation to be done with, and he was going to use the last ounce of his control to finish it. “Shall we go look at some of the other stalls? After so much meat, I could do with some vegetables.”

Akira complied. There was no further need to press him. He got the information that he wanted.

Goro Akechi was human.

\-------------------------

 **Oracle:** Where's my yakitori?!  
**Joker:** Left it on the counter in Leblanc.  
**Oracle:** You're making me go all the way there by myself to get it? It's dark outside...there are moths…  
**Skull:** Did you get any good info outta Akechi?  
**Joker:** Not really. He never mentioned us and I didn't want to seem suspicious.  
**Panther:** So...he invited you for food and didn't talk about the case at all…?  
**Fox:** I'm curious, what did you talk about then?  
**Joker:** The sun. The chicken.  
**Queen:** Hm.  
**Queen:** Maybe he really did just want yakitori.  
**Skull:** Yeah but why go with Akira then? Why not one of his fangirls?  
_I think he's lonely._  
**Joker:** Beats me.


	2. Chapter 2

Akira stopped telling the group when he and Goro were hanging out. It had rapidly become far too embarrassing to try and write off every interaction as "for the good of the case", an information sting, or yet another chance to gain the upper hand. 

The truth was, between gently ebbing details out of him about the case, Akira enjoyed his company. Goro was interesting in a boring sort of way, he knew a lot about things Akira had never considered. He knew all about the news, about foreign affairs, he knew where to eat the best sushi and how to order at a fancy French restaurant. He was an adult in child's clothing and Akira found it fascinating.

Akira showed him how to play arcade games. How to talk to buskers in Shinjuku, and eat a burger with no poise or grace. In turn, Goro showed him where the best hidden bike paths were and how to climb a rock wall, and didn't even laugh that hard when Akira fell on his face.

And whenever he would try to talk about work, Akira would stop him, and point out a restaurant he'd never been to or a movie he wanted to see. And Goro would be eager to indulge him, almost to please him by arranging plans to eat there or see it.

If Goro was trying to get close to him for information on the Phantom Thieves, Akira would make him work for it.

But as the days turned into weeks, he wondered if that really was Goro's intention. There must have been easier ways to siphon clues out of Akira. After all, he was a prodigy detective, and spending weeks eating nice food and having a pleasant time with your target didn't seem like a high level tactic. 

Akira felt the same way. There were easier methods to shaking off a snake than buying a damn bike with the guy.

So what was he doing?

With every genuine smile, laugh, anecdote, morsel of food and embarrassing bouldering moment, Akira felt himself being tugged further and further away from his goal, he was closing the gap between him and Goro, the gap of detective and thief, snake and mouse, friend and foe. His guard was down.

“Akira.”

He blinked.

“Are you okay?” Goro laughed. “You seemed to be lost in thought for a minute there. Am I rubbing off on you?”

“Sorry. Was thinking about school.”

“Are your studies going well?”

“I guess. You?”

“Mmm, yes. Doing my best as always,” and he smiled. Akira learned that Goro had two smiles. One that was always on TV and on his weird fansites, and one that he apparently only showed to Akira. Less rehearsed, more in the eyes, more scrunch in the nose and dimples in the cheeks. He liked it a lot more than the other one Goro used to always flash. It didn't make him feel uneasy, like Goro knew something he didn't.

“I have a weird question for you if you're willing to hear me out,” Goro said after a short pause.

“Sure.”

Goro took another moment to rehearse the question again in his head. Akira saw him gently nibble the inside of his lip, the first time he had seen a trace of something resembling doubt on his face. And was that... _insecurity?_

“Are we...friends?”

Akira genuinely didn't know the answer. Obviously if any other person asked that, the answer would be an easy yes. But coming from Goro, the boy who swore to put an end to everything he stood for, who was drawing the ire of his closest actual friends...could he be considered anything close to one? An acquaintance, definitely, but _friend_ carried weight with it. It was a commitment. It meant something.

It was a dangerous path to tread. But Goro didn't have a front up. He was still cracking and Akira could begin to see what was underneath, something vulnerable and secret.

“Actually, don't answer that—”

“Yes, we are.”

Akira cut in at the very last moment, before he could stop himself, before he could ruminate on the consequences of what he just said for a little bit longer. And it didn't stop there. “Of course we are. We're friends.”

Goro was equally relieved and caught off guard. He visibly softened, his shoulders relaxed, and he leaned back on the bench where they were sitting. “That's...that makes me happy to hear.”

“You've never heard it before?”

Goro was on the ball. “I've never had much time for friends, between work and school and everything in between. It would complicate things if I spent too much of my freetime socializing. You've made me rearrange my whole schedule, honestly!” Such a canned, prepared answer. Akira realized he came armed with every defense he had, and almost felt betrayed in a roundabout sort of way. He wondered if Goro could see any of his cracks, if his soft and vulnerable center was peeking out between the dead pan conversation and deflection. He went on the offensive.

“It's fine to just admit you've never had a friend before, you know,” he said very matter-of-factly. “You don't need a reason. I wouldn't judge.”

“I know you wouldn't,” was all Goro said, undeterred. What game was this?

_It's pretty clear you're new to friendship._

Too mean.

_So why are you still deflecting?_

No, no…

“You can be honest with me.”

“I am being honest,” Goro was playing innocent, and playing it very well. He laughed to break the tension. “Is there something more you're trying to get at?”

“You talk like you're in an interview,” Akira blurted out. Goro was well rehearsed and poised and he was unfiltered and frustrated, the ball was in Goro's court and Akira was playing like he was ahead by miles. Stupid, foolish, why was he even angry? “You have a reason and an excuse for everything, like life is a dissertation. It's annoying.”

“I'm not sure I know what you mean.” Goro looked like he knew exactly what he meant, and furthermore, he seemed subtly amused by the whole ordeal. Akira felt the air leave him.

_Damn. He got me._

“Well. I guess that's just how a detective prince is,” Akira conceded. 

“No, you're right. I suppose I should work on it...honestly, I've just spent so much time talking about things like...hard facts and morality with adults in expensive suits,” he put a hand to his chin and looked down in thought. Akira could've hit himself right then and there, _damn damn damn, now he knows what I expect from him. He knows how to act. He'll be on his guard._ He was in the jaws of the reptile and there was no escape this time.

“That's not how friends speak to each other, is it?”

“You can speak however you want,” Akira replied. “Friends let friends be themselves.”

“...themselves, huh.”

Goro Akechi was a snake.

\-------------------------

“Akechi is a persona user, he has to be.”

“There's no way that he couldn't be, we have the proof...”

Akira's head was swimming. Goro had played him like a fiddle for longer than he thought. What did he expect? There was a disparity between them, in intelligence, in aptitude, in cunning. He was a boy foolish enough to put his hands on an adult, and Goro was someone who thought about every move 5 steps in advance. There was no way he would catch up. If Goro decided they were playing, they were playing, and Akira knew he was losing.

Now it was a matter of Goro knowing who they were and what they were doing, and everyone knew he had the full power to put a stop to it. _After this, the Phantom Thieves must disband. Deal?_

What other option was there?

The worst part was, Goro's constant invitations to spend time together didn't stop even after they began infiltrating a palace together. It was as if nothing had changed at all, as if it was still early autumn and they were eating skewers and talking about politics. Goro had to know he was winning, and the end was drawing near, so why continue? Akira had already fallen into his trap. Intimate bike rides on the weekend had culminated in the Phantom Thieves being cornered like rats. And Akira let it happen.

_Friends, sure._

Goro wanted to bring a DVD over. Something about mountaineering in Machu Picchu. Why.

Akira put it in. They sat down.

They watched people climb mountains.

“Hey,” Goro said during a really riveting part about altitude.

“What.”

“I hope you didn't take it personally, what I said about the Phantom Thieves.” Goro's eyes didn't leave the television. “That I'd like you to disband.”

“You're only doing your job.”

“Heh, you yield so easily sometimes.” He sighed. “It's more than that. The ability to change people's hearts...don't you think that's dangerous? No one should have that sort of power. Not even me, or you.”

“It's not dangerous if it's used responsibly,” Akira said. “We're doing a lot of good.”

“Everything done in good intention invariably becomes distorted. By fame, pressure, expectations. It can't go on forever.”

“We've already made a deal so you don't need to try to change my mind.”

“Akira,” Goro said in a voice that made him finally look over. Goro looked over too. _Crack._ More of Goro was showing through. The look on his face could only be described as mildly helpless, a look that Akira hadn't seen on him before. It was foreign and it made him pay attention. “I'm not trying to change your mind. I'm just...” he swallowed. “After this, are we still able to be friends?”

“What.”

His brow furrowed slightly, serious but still with a twinge of desperation. “I know you must hold something against me, inherently as someone who was opposing the Phantom Thieves. But you are...a really good friend to me. You are. I don't want to lose you because of it.”

Akira remained stoic but inside he was floundering around, his mind racing to try and backtrack 7 or 8 moves, 7 or 8 weeks, and find out where he went wrong and what tactic Goro was trying. What was the point? He had them in the palm of his hand. He had full control, he had everything he wanted, he had come out on top in the end…

Or maybe...he hadn't.

Akira looked back on conversation after conversation, idle chatter to serious debates on current events, sushi and coffee that always tasted a little sweeter than normal. Move after move, round after round, Akira went over them all desperately searching for what he was missing, why Goro was doing this and what he was going to lose if he fell for it.

And then he realized.

The pawns hadn't moved. There was no checkmate. Akira had spent the better part of autumn building a battlefield in his head, but Goro never showed up for war.

There wasn't a game at all.

It really was all yakitori and bicycling to him.

He reached over the space between their chairs and gently wrapped his arms around Goro, who sat in place and didn't move for a moment. But slowly, hesitantly, he returned the gesture.

“What are you doing?”

Akira didn't answer.

“This is unnecessary, you know...I only asked a question...”

Silence.

Akira felt Goro's grip on him tighten, ever so slightly, as if testing the waters of how appropriate his closeness was for a hug between friends. His hands roamed around Akira's back briefly, searching for a spot to settle. A spot that felt safe and natural. Soon enough Akira felt Goro's face land on his shoulder, buried into his shirt. He felt a ripple run through Goro, and his grip tightened as well, and thought he might fall out of his chair with how deeply he was leaning into him. He was stupid. They were both stupid. 

Goro lifted his head, voice thick and taut. Akira felt warmth on his shoulder where he just was. “S-sorry. This is a first for me.”

“It's fine.”

“Thank you for...being patient,” a sniff and then a short laugh. “You're good at that, I remember.”

“We'll still be friends,” Akira said. They were still interlocked, but he felt like he couldn't meet Goro's eyes any more than Goro could his. He'd never held a crying guy in his arms before. “Nothing will change.”

“Okay,” Goro nodded into his shoulder, over and over again. “Okay.” There was another quick sniff and then the telltale laugh of someone trying to lessen the emotional heaviness hanging over themselves. “That's good. Heh, sorry for...well, you know, I've been under a lot of stress lately...so...”

Akira pulled away, and dared a glance at Goro's face. He was even a pretty crier, the world was truly unfair. “You don't need to explain. Just let it be.”

“...let it be. Okay.” Goro nodded and smiled. Akira felt himself smile back. They finished the DVD. Goro had coffee. He stayed late and Akira didn't mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Goro liked fake plastic ray guns and swords that glowed and stories about selfless heroes fighting for the downtrodden and weak, which was sort of adorable.

“You don't get many opportunities to play with this sort of stuff when you're an orphan,” Goro said in an unorthodox, sunshine-y voice. Munehisa raised an eyebrow from the corner while Goro looked at goofy guns with Akira. 

“That's sort of depressing,” Akira remarked.

“Ah, well it's all in the past now,” Goro said.

Weeks in the palace had revealed a lot about Goro Akechi. He liked the spotlight, that was unsurprising. But most noticeably that he saw himself as that selfless hero he never got to be as a kid, stealing from the rich but not quite getting around to giving to the poor. A pure white do-gooder that was probably making everyone else sick with his cloying sweetness. Moms trusted him.

But Akira bought into it. It was cute. He was on a new stealth mission to hide his sideways glances at Goro from his friends. As far as they knew, he was the enemy and a begrudging ally for now. And perhaps that was what he should have stayed as, but Akira knew he was stupid and there was no fighting it.

He would glance, he would look, he would stare. He could feel Goro stealing glances at him too, out of the corner of his eye, a silent language that they were speaking when others were present. When they were alone, he looked closer. Warm brown eyes, always alight and aware. He desperately needed a haircut but somehow the messiness made him even more charming. The soft angles of his face contrasted with the surprisingly many harder angles of his body, not that Akira was looking _that_ hard.

Akira was confused. Friends don't usually stare at each other that much, save for Yusuke but Akira was pretty confident that his only true love in this world was art. 

...love...

_Oops._

The word crossed his mind and then immediately left, like a fleeting breeze across his face. But it immediately came back to slap him.

_Love._

There's no way it could be love. They had only known each other for a few months, intimately for significantly less. They had physically touched each other for the first time only weeks ago, the thought that it could be anything more than friendship was absurd.

Still.

“What do you think of this one?” Goro pointed a particularly cartoonish toy gun at Akira's face with a grin. “Pew, pew.”

“Don't point a gun at anything you don't intend to kill. Even if it's fake and with lasers,” Akira teased, pushing it aside.

“Haha, sorry.” He turned it over in his hands a few times. “I really like it. Can we buy it?”

Goro liked buying toy ray guns, he saw himself as a hero.

Akira loved that.

…………………

The day that they said they would infiltrate the palace was drawing closer by the day, and while Akira and the thieves felt confident about their ability to handle the heist with ease, Akira was losing sleep over a messy haired boy with a nice smile.

He knew he was stupid, but now he was convinced that he was an idiot beyond all redemption. It could never work out. They would have to keep it a secret from everyone. His friends might see it as a betrayal, and it definitely wouldn't be good for Goro's precious public image.

He hated that he was turning this over in his head as if he knew for sure Goro even felt the same way. For all he knew, he was toiling in solitude for nothing at all. Goro was constantly followed by a parade of girls (and some boys), and whenever the fair-weather ones left, there were always more to replace them. Akira never brushed his hair and had bad eyesight. He couldn't do pull-ups and his blanket was covered in cat fur. He tried to convince himself to just give up, put it aside, stop thinking about it.

But it was hopeless. The thought of Goro was seeping into everything. When he made coffee, he remembered to be patient. When he ate sushi, he remembered some silly anecdote about the length of the rice grains. And Goro was constantly texting, making the task no more easy on him. Again, Akira was losing, but at a far more complicated game.

The last Sunday before the infiltration rolled around. Goro wanted to watch another DVD. This one was about skiing in Europe. He even brought snacks and an electric blanket (“because you don't have a kotatsu!”), which only complicated things as they munched away on rice crackers and lost the barrier between their own body warmth and the other's.

The documentary was interesting. _Goro's shoulder is touching mine, can he tell?_ Skiing looked dangerous. _His cheeks are a little pink, is it from the heat?_ He wondered if he would have time to go to a ski resort this winter. _I could touch his hand, and if he doesn't like it I can play it off._ Is cross country or downhill easier?

“If the documentary is boring, you can just tell me,” Goro said suddenly. Akira was jolted out of his daze.

“What?”

“You haven't been watching it at all,” Goro said, facing him, both still wrapped in the warm blanket and sitting on the sofa but far enough away to be in friend territory. 

“Sorry. It's not that it's boring.”

“Then what is it? We can watch something else.”

Akira took in a breath and held it for a while as someone was speaking German from the television. 

_Let's watch something with a lot of action._

You'll miss your chance.

_Let's finish it, I want to know more about Kitzbühel._

Oh, come on.

“I've been thinking.”

“About what?” Goro was polite as ever. Eye contact, pleasant demeanor, an expert conversationalist in every aspect. Akira was all unsteady heartbeats and a temperature that was quickly rising and not just because of the blanket.

“Us. As friends.”

Goro smiled and crossed his legs under the blanket. “Oh? That's sweet of you. Only good things, I hope.”

_He thinks I'm sweet. Damn I'm weak._

“Yeah. Good things. I think...we're good friends, good teammates.” 

“Teammates...that sounds good to hear,” Goro said in a tone of voice almost as if he was dazzled by the word. “I'm glad I can be useful to the group.”

“I think we're _really_ good friends.”

Goro paused. “I don't disagree but I'm not sure where you're going with this.”

Akira cracked a smile. “You always have to keep up, don't you? You never want to be caught by surprise.”

Goro, somehow, took this as a challenge. His eyes narrowed, his smile turned playful, had Akira been standing up he would've found himself weak at the knees. “One cannot afford to be caught by surprise in my line of work.”

Akira was beginning to realize that Goro wasn't cracking at all. Rather, he was opening slowly and gently, unfolding, like petals on a spring flower, one at a time. Akira wanted to see the last petal fall, get to the core, and he didn't care if he stumbled and shattered and Goro saw everything inside of him in the process.

He leaned towards Goro and moved his hand so that it was on top of his. He didn't immediately pull away, a good sign, but he did let out a small noise, as if he had just been shocked. Akira let his hand linger there for a moment before interlacing his fingers. Goro's hands were ever so slightly rough, probably from gripping bicycle handles and plastic rocks, but warm and firm in their grip. They were nice. Akira wondered why he always wore gloves.

Goro looked down, although there was nothing to see with the blanket in the way, then back up. He didn't move at first, as though he was manually trying to parse together the most logical and rational response to this. 

Slowly, Akira felt Goro's other hand move to his chest, and the look on his face said that he was unaware he had even done it. He wasn't used to his body just moving on its own volition, not on command. Cheeks flushed, hair in his face, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

_Just do it._

Akira leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Goro jolted and sucked in a sharp breath through his nose, but quickly his eyes fluttered shut and he pushed back into the kiss. If he was paying attention, he would have definitely felt that Akira's heart was pounding in his chest, betraying the smooth transition he had made from good friend to something else. 

Goro's arms slipped up and out from under the blanket, linking around Akira's shoulders and returning the kiss with as much rookie spirit as he had returned the hug with. Awkward, inexperienced, Akira found it absolutely wonderful in every possible way. Composed and perfect Goro was finally mussed up and helpless, silently proving that he wasn't the calm and mature adult he pretended to be.

Goro's fingers moved around the back of Akira's head, tangling themselves in his hair. His movements were excited and unsure, as though he wanted to touch every inch of him but wasn't sure where to start. Akira slipped his hands to the small of Goro's back and lowered him down onto the sofa. He was fairly sure Goro was quite a bit stronger than he was, but being on top of him and acting like he had any idea he knew what he was doing gave him a rush. 

Goro didn't object to being under him, even as the weight of Akira's hips pressed down onto his. Goro twisted his head and tried to probe deeper into his mouth, which made something in Akira light up. He bit at Goro's lip, a little rougher than he had intended, but that seemed to be just the thing for Goro, whose nails dug into Akira's back through his shirt. His body arched upwards and a noise that you definitely can't play on a talk show escaped his throat.

Akira pulled back to catch a breath, and look at his handiwork. Goro's cheeks were glowing, his lips were flushed, and a halo of soft brown hair framed his face. Goro immediately lifted his head up and placed another kiss, this one much more firm but fleeting, onto Akira. He briefly looked like he wanted to go in for round two, but his tempered nature held him back. Sojiro was right downstairs, after all.

“Were you surprised?” Akira asked with subtle arrogance, hair hanging in his face as he looked down at him.

Goro was out of breath and staring at the ceiling like he'd just been blinded. “I...I suppose...”

“I heard detectives cannot afford to be caught by surprise.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Goro rolled his eyes. “Also your glasses are crooked, you look unprofessional.” Akira allowed them to be adjusted, a drunken and sappy smile plastered on his face. Goro echoed it, laughing sweet as syrup. He made a motion for Akira to move, then plucked the blanket from the floor and drew his knees to his chest, curled up next to him. He sat, quiet and small and stared at the wall. His fingers went to his own lips and touched, as though searching for proof that what had just happened had, indeed, just happened. Akira looked over. There was a small red mark under Goro's bottom lip where his teeth had connected. He felt smug about it.

“Are we...still just very good friends?” Goro asked, quietly.

“I don't know yet,” Akira said. “You should just let it be.”

Goro pulled the blanket up to his nose, hiding most of the glowing red on his cheeks. “Hmm. I'm beginning to think that's just a scapegoat thing you say when you don't have an answer for something.”

“You're catching on.”

Akira made him coffee, but he didn't leave when Leblanc closed. The next day, Morgana complained that the doors and window had been locked and he couldn't get in all night. Akira apologized. It must have been a mistake.


	4. Chapter 4

“Joker!” Goro called at the entrance of the casino, vibrant with light and buzzing with activity on the eve of the heist. The rest of the team was eager and on edge to get in and finish the job, but Akira turned towards his voice. “I need to talk to you about our plan for a moment.”

Akira obliged and followed Goro to a secluded corner near the entrance. He knew this wasn't about the plan, because Goro never questioned his plans. He was a little more obedient, less fussy, when they were the Phantom Thieves.

Goro looked past Akira to make sure no one was eavesdropping. Good to go. He smiled at him, somewhat businesslike and polite but genuine enough. “It seems like this will be our last time as Phantom Thieves, huh?”

“Looks like it.”

“It was fun, I won't lie,” Goro admitted, glancing away as if too shy to admit he had actual, indulgent enjoyment for once in his life. “It's a pity that things won't continue like this.”

“Literally only you are stopping that from happening.”

“I know that,” Goro sighed. “But I stand by what I said. Even if you all— _we_ all—have good intentions now, they will get muddled. Power is a very dangerous thing,” he eyed Akira warily.

“If good people in the world were powerless, nothing would ever get done.”

“You might be right,” Goro said, softening. “Regardless, I'm as stubborn as you, and can't let go of my morals that easily. I just didn't want you to think that this whole thing...didn't matter to me.”

Akira smiled knowingly. “I have a feeling that you didn't call me over here just to say thanks and shake my hand.”

“Perceptive,” Goro droned, and put his hands on his hips. “I think it's best if after this, we...wait for things to blow over. Wait for the Phantom Thieves' popularity to die down, before we see each other again.”

“Scared of being seen fraternizing with the enemy?”

“I'm not _scared_ , I am...cognizant,” Goro said. “As you should be too...I think your friends would find it suspicious.” He said it almost self-consciously. Akira felt a pang. Goro hid it well but it seemed difficult to fight alongside a group that only considered him a temporary ally, definitely not a friend.

“After this, maybe we could all be friends,” Akira said. “Normal friends. No Phantom Thieves and Detective Princes.” He sidled up next to Goro, who didn't move away. “Isn't that easier than all these clandestine meetings?”

Goro crossed his arms. Perhaps it was a lot to ask of him. After all, Akira was his first and currently only friend, not counting the dozens of soulless adults he put so much effort into socializing with. Suddenly raising that count by 7 more might be difficult.

“I need time to think about it,” Goro mumbled. “But that isn't really what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okay.” Akira was listening.

A short silence hung in the air, but Goro quickly turned to Akira confidently, arms at his sides. A few more petals fell away to reveal a soft bud in the center, and Akira could almost see through to the most gentle, genuine part of him. Yet again, he was embarrassed by how endearing he found it.

“If I won't get to see you again for a while, then...”

“Then what?”

“Stop interrupting me.”

“Sorry.”

Goro glanced to the side, sort of in a huff, and then looked like his whole plan had been ruined. He took a moment to re-evaluate and came up short. Hurriedly, without thinking, he ripped the mask off his face and leaned into a kiss before Akira could even take a breath in and prepare for it. He didn't know if Goro had been practicing or what, maybe it was just the Crow motif that gave him the confidence, but he had _certainly_ improved from last time.

Akira felt the strength sap from his body. He hadn't really noticed it before, but Goro was ever so slightly taller, maybe just an inch, but now that he was initiating things and pulling him in closer and leaning over him, Akira wasn't sure he would have the strength to run off with anyone's Treasure after this.

In an even more pleasantly surprising move, Goro put his palms on his shoulders and pushed him into the concrete facade of the building. Akira finally took in a breath but bit it back. His friends could come around the corner any minute, and any stray gasp or heaven forbid, moan, could tip them off. Goro, for all his efforts, chose the worst time and place to pull a stunt like this. Akira wished they were in the Leblanc kitchen after closing, knocking over porcelain cups before stumbling up the stairs to his room. 

Instead they were in the heart of his close friend's sister wearing silly costumes. It was weird. But Akira couldn't convince himself that it was weird enough. It felt good.

He felt happy.

“You really have the worst timing,” Akira whispered, lips still ghosting over Goro's. He didn't know when his arms had moved around Goro's waist but they had, and there was an extremely impolite amount of space left between them. Goro was gripping Akira's shoulders firmly, almost painfully, as if the moment he let go, he would slip away forever. When he spoke, it was a little too serious.

“No time like the present.”

“That's not like you.”

“A thief lives only in the present. That is like me,” Goro's eyelids dropped down a little. He bit his lip. That same childlike shyness, coyness, that Akira was certain no one else had ever seen on the face of the pragmatic Goro Akechi. He spoke softly, like telling a secret. “I'm Robin Hood.”

Akira smiled. He wanted to laugh, but sadness dampened it. That was it. The last petal fell. There was all of Goro, right before him, dangerously close to him, no more pretending and politeness. From the orphan living out repressed childhood fantasies to the squeaky clean TV prince taking joy in doing dirty work, all were laid bare before him. Goro was a puzzle and Akira had finally solved it

And yet.

Something hung in the air above them. Something unspoken, but both of them clearly felt it. Bitter, painful, melancholy and yearning. Akira's smile faded as he realized Goro felt it too. He backed off away from him. _Don't go._ Akira leaned down and picked up the long nosed mask off the ground, and placed it gently back onto Goro's face. His body was betraying his mind. The words wouldn't come. _How come I'm ignoring this?_ Goro adjusted it, and smoothed out the wrinkles in his clothes. 

They waited.

The air was heavy.

“Well,” Goro was the one to break the silence. Akira wanted to cut him off. _No, not well, don't say what you're going to say, don't brush it off. Don't ignore it. The minute you put it in the past, we can never talk about it again. We'll never be in this moment again. But what am I supposed to say? What are we supposed to do? This is our only chance to—_

“Shall we get going, leader?”

“...sure.”

Goro turned and walked off.

Akira watched, then followed.

The moment was gone.

\-------------------------

Akira's eyes met Goro's, settled atop the barrel of a gun, and realized that perhaps an error had been made.

“Here we are,” Goro sing-songed, his eyes narrowing and smile widening. Every bright glimmer in his eyes was gone, replaced with a void. No light reflected, nothing penetrating them, just dead and flat. Akira studied them for a while, trying to think of how to respond to that, or to the situation. The Phantom Thieves had spent an awful lot of time on this plan, and Akira had willingly sabotaged it in a currently-being-proven-feeble attempt to prove that they could trust Goro. That he was a good person, the good person that Akira had seen and spent time with, that his involvement in the murders was a misunderstanding. That he could be changed, that he _wanted_ to change. 

And now he had cold steel pressed to his forehead.

C'est la vie.

“So, it was all a facade,” Akira commented, blandly. He wanted to punch himself.

“Yes. What else could it have been?”

“That's the stupidest thing you've ever said and I think you know that.”

Goro's eyes turned mean and defensive. His smile faded. “Don't patronize me. You should have seen this coming. Criminals always get what's coming to them, didn't you learn that in grade school?”

“So, this is all just another day on the job. Shooting people you don't agree with.”

“Whether or not I agree with you has nothing to do with it,” Goro hissed. “Criminals have no place in this world. They would eat it alive if allowed to run around free. How lucky society is that there are people like me around to stop you.”

Akira was quiet for a moment, his gaze unfaltering for so long that he could tell Goro was uncomfortable with the intensity of his stare, yet he didn't look away or pull the trigger. The two remained frozen, locked within an arm's length of each other.

“Then do it,” Akira said and was pretty sure that those would be his last and most stupid words. Goro tilted his head and his eyes widened, almost as a challenge for Akira to press his buttons further, before tensing his arm and yanking the gun away from Akira's head. He rubbed at the indentation on his forehead and let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. Goro, meanwhile, turned his back to him and bent over, arms close to his body and tense.

Akira stood up, and Goro immediately spun around and pointed the gun at him again. “That doesn't mean you can move,” he snapped. Akira obediently sat back down.

“If you don't want to do it then you don't have to,” he said, almost pleading. Goro put a gloved hand over his face and turned his head to the side. “You can just walk away.”

“Shut up,” Goro moaned, as if the situation was causing him physical pain. The gun was trailing around, unfocused on any particular target but Akira remained seated. “I have to.”

“Why?”

“I just do!” Goro shouted, tearing his hand from his face. His eyes were wild, enraged, his whole body was shaking and on edge. The gun found its target again, but with far less conviction than before. “I have to...I have to do it. You _have_ to die because...because I'm the _hero_ and the hero always wins!” Tears of frustration were forming in the corners of his eyes. He wasn't a pretty crier right now.

“This isn't a game,” Akira said, breathless. He was speaking from experience, but he doubted that Goro saw the playing field the same way. In his mind, the winner and loser were decided way back in summer, just by the virtue of their roles. There was no way Akira could win. The game was rigged from the start.

His face betrayed none of the inner fear he was feeling, as if every nerve in his body was crackling with electricity. Not just at having a gun pointed at him, but at the fear that he had, in fact, been fooled, and lost something precious and wonderful that he had perhaps never truly had. Betrayal gnawed at his stomach like an angry animal. “There isn't anything to win, Goro. You're not a loser.”

A small spark of boldness flashed within him for a moment.

“You can't tell me that everything leading up to now was a lie,” Akira lowered his head a little, eyes unwavering. Goro faltered. “You went out of your way. No one does that. You don't fool me.”

“God you piss me off,” Goro said through gritted teeth. “I don't feel anything for you. I wanted to get close to you to make my job easier.” He forced a sardonic smile. “Don't tell me you're heartbroken.”

Akira's eyes were forced away at that. He stared off to the side, some of the gusto knocked out of him.

_Not at all. You're right, we had nothing._

Good way to get a bullet to the face.

_Only if you are._

Take responsibility...

“I am,” Akira said, voice tight, barely making its way out of his throat. “I trusted you.” He shifted in his seat and smiled at Goro, a hopeless smile thick with sadness and a longing for more long nights under the electric blanket falling asleep to boring foreign documentaries. “I think I loved you.”

Goro froze. His mind was reeling, desperately analyzing emotions as if they were evidence. Scanning data and facts looking for any clue that could tell him what to do. Akira held valuable knowledge. He had seen Goro at his weakest. At the point where people usually hurt him but Akira _didn't_ and that made Goro want to get rid of him even more. Instead, he only turned away again. His arm holding the gun fell to his side, and he masked any whimpers coming from his mouth with hopeless laughter. “Damn. I really hate you.”

“Goro,” Akira said, in little more than a whisper. “We can start over.”

“You can, I can't,” Goro replied, now morose and angry at someone or something that wasn't present in the room. “You think life is so fucking easy because no matter what you do, things work out for you. I don't get it. I've spent my whole life doing what adults want me to do, and you act out and rebel and break laws and you keep...winning...” he spat out of the word. “I don't get it.”

“I already said, no one is winning or losing,” Akira was outright pleading now. He was close. Goro was close. Close to going back to the Goro he knew, who even was this? What mask was Goro wearing? One that he had kept hidden from Akira very well, but a mask all the same. Long nosed. Red with shame. Pinocchio telling lies. “Just come with me. Let's just leave.”

Goro finally turned back to him. Slowly, cautiously, his left arm didn't move from his side. Akira eyed the gun warily, but his finger wasn't even on the trigger anymore. Goro's eyes were dry. He reached up and adjusted a lock of his hair back into place. Back to fake and plastic-y, not a strand out of order, not a wrinkle on his face. He was in control of the exterior but inside, a storm was raging.

“Maybe I loved you too,” he said, ice cold and dismissive. Akira clenched his jaw at that. He wanted to launch himself out of the chair and grab Goro by the shoulders and shake him until his hair was messed up and he was pretty crying and he was back to the Goro he knew, back to being human. But he remained seated. And waited. 

“But that was foolishness on my part. Love doesn't have any real significance, it's just an emotion like any other. It's paltry,” he walked behind Akira and grabbed the back of the chair, then spun him around away from the table. “It doesn't mean anything.”

“Why are you doing this?” Was all Akira could muster.

The response was a silencer in his mouth. He didn't dare try to keep his lips together, he probably would have let Goro put that gun anywhere at that moment.

“Shut up,” Goro commanded, and tilted the gun, probing a little deeper. His finger moved to the trigger. Akira felt his mouth go dry. All he could taste was metal and gunpowder. He saw glimpses of his life begin to flash in front of him. A lot of burgers, a lot of studying, a lot of things his friends told him that he didn't listen to.

“What a treat it is to see you in this position. Helpless. Scared. Do you think your supporters will even care about their summertime hero when he turns up dead? How quickly idols fall in this world.” He swallowed and glanced to the side, but only momentarily. “I know all about that.”

Akira mumbled something around the gun. Goro paused, and then slowly withdrew it. “Something to say?”

“You're stalling,” Akira said flatly. “Why?”

Goro shoved it back in, forcefully this time. Akira gagged and pulled back a little. “Stop asking me that stupid question,” Goro said, enunciating every syllable until his voice cracked. “I spent the better part of this year chasing you. Now I want to see you suffer. That's what I deserve. And it's what you deserve for putting me through so much.”

_So much of what? You're the one that brought snacks, what the hell._

He climbed into Akira's lap and Akira didn't have nearly enough conviction to push him off. Somehow, even with a gun in his hand and all the power in the world at that moment, Goro seemed weaker than before. All bravado, no confidence. He looked down at Akira and removed the gun again, this time trailing the barrel down the bruises on his lips, chin, then he pulled down his shirt collar to expose his neck and let it settle there. Akira swallowed.

“If that's what you really want,” he said quietly, his vocal cords were taught and strained. “Then do it. I don't care. As long as it really makes you happy.”

Goro leaned in and Akira felt that same energy that he had felt only—damn, _hours_ ago. Had it really only been that long? Not even a day? Not even 24 hours from a warm, well rehearsed kiss to gun in the throat? Goro really was shit at fooling most people but always flawlessly fooled himself, which Akira found a little terrifying. If Goro could convince himself of anything, then he could get away with anything. Run away from anything.

“You don't care about what makes me happy.”

“Yes I do.”

“No one does,” Goro furrowed his brow and studied the gun at Akira's collarbones. His finger flexed back and forth on the trigger. “So how could you be different?”

“I don't think anyone knows you like I do,” Akira replied, voice now hoarse and sticky from anxiety and residue. “Weren't you happy?”

Goro's other hand roamed to Akira's chest, the exact same spot he had placed it when they were still bright eyed and naive on the sofa. It felt like eons ago. His eyes moved to that hand, as though it had betrayed him somehow. He bunched up Akira's jacket in his fist and pulled him up, painfully into the hard steel of the gun. 

Their faces were close. Akira was used to being here. But he was staring at an ugly mask. Goro's voice was terse, wavering.

“You'll live to regret this,” he said. “You could have had it easy. It could be over by now.” He pushed Akira back into the chair and climbed off of him, gun in tow. “But I want you to suffer more.”

Akira didn't say anything. Goro was on his way out the door. He was gone before he could even think of _what_ to say.

Goro Akechi wasn't a puzzle after all, Goro Akechi was a bomb.

\-------------------------

Akira was empty but he didn't let on. It helped that a certain amount of stoic mystique was expected of him, so his quietness wasn't questioned. His friends thought that he was traumatized from having a gun pulled on him and couldn't fathom why their plan had failed; it had seemed iron-clad. Akira played dumb, which was a poor leadership decision but what's a drop in the bucket at this point? So they spent most of their time cheering him up. Lifting him up. And dragging Goro down.

_We knew it was him all along but somehow, it's still hard to believe._

_He worked with us and everything._

_To think he'd betray even Akira…_

_He's a two-faced monster._

Akira himself nodded along politely. Yes, hard to believe. Yes, definitely betrayed. He didn't feel anything, besides like the fool he knew he was. Any time he thought about it, began to dwell on what had happened, he felt his stomach turn and his heart ache. Images of Goro framed in mid-autumn sunlight were burned into his mind. Carefree, happy, not measuring his smile and not caring enough to maintain his composure. 

But that Goro was a ghost. There were memories and hints, but he wasn't there. And Akira couldn't prove that he had ever been there at all.

The Phantom Thieves didn't dwell on ghosts and sadness. After all, every one of his friends had been through tragedy this past year, Akira was fine to keep his silent. The show had to go on, regardless.

Goro had faded from the television broadcasts, at least temporarily. Perhaps he was embarrassed by his misstep in the interrogation room and knew that Akira would be watching. Perhaps, rather, he was as silent and sullen as Akira was, off in that lonely apartment he lived in by himself that he never let Akira see. 

Days faded into each other. Doldrums returned to doldrums. School became a pleasant distraction from nagging thoughts and nostalgia. Words came and went. 

_We'll change Shido's heart for sure._

_This'll be our very last job._

_We'll get him back for what he did to our leader!_

Akira tried to put the fire back into his belly but was having trouble lighting the match. Between scouting missions for intel and nights in the bath house or doing laundry, Akira would look up at the clouds, or moon. The same sky that Goro was looking at, somewhere, but not with him. He wondered how it looked from over there. 

His chest ached and his stomach became sick whenever he thought about it.

Goro was getting what he wanted.


	5. Chapter 5

Goro stood, poised and upright. Chest out, shoulders back, just like he had practiced. That was how important adults got people to listen to them. That was how strong people carried themselves. His left hand was unmoving as it gripped the hilt of his sword. _People who hesitate are weak. People who don't act with conviction are cowardly._

“As eager as I am to be done with all of you, I have other matters to take care of so I hope you don't mind if I make this quick,” he said to the Phantom Thieves before him. “But I can't guarantee painless.”

“What are you in such a rush for?” Ryuji demanded. “Is your spot on Shido's lap getting cold or something?”

“Funny thing to say for someone about to be put down like a sick dog.”

“Just stop it,” Makoto said, stepping forward. “Both of you. We don't need to fight.” Goro frowned. She was just like her sister, but more saccharine in her pursuit of compromise. Justice this, mediating that. “Akechi, please just hear us out for—“

“I _don't_ need to listen to you,” Goro snapped and pointed his sword at her. The rest of the party took a step back, hands hovering above their own weapons. Makoto stood strong and didn't move, and somehow he hated that. _She used to always let people walk all over her, she never had confidence. How did she…?_ “And I don't really have time to talk. What a shame that you wasted your final words on begging.”

“Go,” Akira said suddenly, and all eyes turned to him. Goro hated that too, how easily he commanded everyone's attention, even his own. If he spoke, everyone listened. He had seized control of the situation just like that. How did he do it? Wasn't he just a kid from the middle of nowhere? Why was what he had to say so important? _Shit._

“Go and secure a route to the Treasure,” Akira said to his teammates, though his eyes were locked onto Goro. “I'll catch up.”

“No—“ Ann began, but Akira shook his head.

“I'll be there in no time. Just go.”

There was a pause, with all the Phantom Thieves exchanging unsure glances. Their eyes hovered at the space between the two boys, then settled on Goro. He could feel the venom. However, their glares were temporary, and they turned and retreated from the engine room without ceremony. Goro's heart began to pound and he felt heat fill his body. _He said it and everyone just obeyed. Like animals. They just do whatever they're told. Why? Why him?_

As soon as their footsteps could no longer be heard pounding on the heavy metal below them, Goro returned his sword to its sheath, but didn't move from his spot. Akira stared at him, face unreadable.

“You're a bad leader,” Goro commented. “You know I'll just go after them as soon as I'm done with you. I thought Phantom Thieves were supposed to stick together.” He smiled. “All for one and one for all, right?”

“This isn't about them, it's about you and me.”

“Ah,” Goro laughed and shook his head. “You sound like you're all business. Do you intend to kill me now?”

“No,” Akira responded. Goro hadn't expected such a blunt answer.

“Then…?”

“I came to stop you.”

“How noble,” Goro said in a sweet voice, airy and light, but made heavy by bitterness and hate. “That is how you always operate, isn't it? You can't say kill, you can only say stop. You don't hurt people, you only _change_ them.” _Changing someone's heart is just as bad as murdering them. You're killing who they were._

_You're just as bad as me. You are._

_I'm not the villain._

Akira reached up and removed the mask from his face. It turned to heatless flame in his palm and disappeared. Under it, Goro could see that his eyebrows were drawn together, but his eyes were wide. He had seen that exact expression before, on adults that looked down on him. Who thought he was hopeless. Worthless. It was—

“P-pity,” Goro whispered. Then his voice rose. “Pity? Do you pity me?!”

“No.”

“Then what's that look on your face for?!” Goro yelled. “That...that stupid expression...why are you looking at me like that? What is there to pity? I...I'm winning, aren't I? I'm more powerful than you, so don't pity me!”

“I'm not,” Akira said, softly. Goro unsheathed his sword with one jerking motion and pointed it at Akira, drawing closer. His hand was shaking this time. _N-no...people who hesitate are weak...how does he always do this to me? Everything I've worked for...he just tears it down, every time._ He got within arms' reach of Akira, close enough to be able to look down at him. He had to.

“I'll prove it to you,” Goro said through clenched teeth and in a quivering voice. His cheeks were flushed with rage. “I won't make the mistake of sparing you again. I'll prove to you that I'm better.”

Akira drew his knife, and Goro's eyes went to it immediately. But, before he could react, Akira let it fall to the floor. His gun too. No mask, no weapons, he wasn't even a Phantom Thief anymore, he was just a boy. Goro took a step back, mouth hanging open in shock.

“You don't think I'm worth fighting,” he said, hoarse. The heat in his veins was boiling and he felt like something inside of him was going to snap and he had no say what it was. The world was closing in on him and it was beginning to crumble under his feet. The Detective Prince, the celebrity, the idol, the Robin Hood, all were falling into the void below him, leaving him with...what? “You...you were looking down on me this whole time.”

“Why do you never listen to other people?” Akira asked. “You only listen to yourself. Even if it's lies. Even if it's just to convince yourself of something.”

Goro's sword dropped to the floor with a loud clang, followed by a short bzz. He took another step back, knees weaker, hands over his face and eyes darting around at the floor, searching for something, _something_ to stave off this feeling. This feeling he had been running from his whole life. _Weak, cowardly, pitiable..._ His eyes filled with angry tears— _“if you don't stop crying I'll find someone competent to get the job done”_ —if he didn't do this, if he didn't fix it, Shido would—

_Fear._

“Sh-shut up...shut up...I-I'm going to get rid of you...finally...” he pulled his hands from his face and looked down at them, shaking uncontrollably. He looked back up at Akira, and a small smile played over his face. Epiphany. The solution to his problem laid before him plain as day, so obvious, so simple. “Akira...Akira...you're the reason I'm suffering. If I get rid of you, it will all go away.”

He heard a distant _“Goro”_ somewhere in the ether, but it didn't reach him. Nothing reached him now, not sense or reason, only the panicked fear that was blooming from deep inside, quickly swallowed up by an overflowing wave of fury. It swallowed him whole like an ocean wave in a storm. Dark and heavy, all consuming. _Get rid of him, get rid of him and you'll be rewarded. You'll be praised. You'll be on top again._

“Finally, everything will be back to normal...back to the way it was before you came into my life...”

“Goro!”

“...and _ruined everything!_ ”

Darkness.

Akira put an arm in front of his eyes to shield at the sudden gust of energy that rushed at him. The sheer force of it almost knocked him off his feet. When he squinted into the light again, there was an inky black spot where Goro had been standing. But no, it wasn't a spot, it was a silhouette, and it was human…

It was Goro.

Enveloped in moving forms of black and red, almost like a caricature of his usual bright purity, it was Goro. He was flanked by a hulking form of white and black behind him, monstrous and unintelligible. A hideous laugh echoed through the room and Akira couldn't believe that it could come from Goro, but it was. 

There were no more words spoken. Goro lunged at him, arm close to his body but then thrusting outwards. He wasn't even bothering with his persona or a weapon, he was going at him with his claws like a beast. There was no way Akira could move in time. 

This would be it.

His gut instinct was to have a moment of regret, that he had passed on a quick bullet to the brain instead of being gored to death like prey in the wild. But at the same time, this felt right. He had wanted to see the real Goro but he had gotten caught up in the sunny side of him. He never thought about the darkness that eclipsed his heart and mind. He hadn't considered it. Goro had dropped so many hints.

_“You're the lucky one, not me.”_

_“You don't get many opportunities to play with this sort of stuff when you're an orphan.”_

_“Everything done in good intention invariably becomes distorted.”_

_“I don't want to lose you.”_

Akira thought about how he missed it. Too caught up in games, in mice and snakes, in getting to the top and staying there. Too in love with mannerisms and holding on too dearly to small things Goro only showed him. Too bored with his taste in documentaries to notice that Goro was enchanted with foreign places, with the idea of _escaping._

Akira felt a sharp pain in his forearm. His arms had guarded him in a cross formation without realizing it. Goro's claws had found themselves in his flesh, rather than straight to his heart. Goro took in a ragged breath, and gripped Akira's arm hard. The pain jolted Akira upright, and Goro smiled.

“Goodbye,” he snarled.

“I failed you.”

“ _What?_ ”

“You needed something and I failed you,” Akira repeated. He understood now. Goro wanted to live as a monster. An unchained animal on a rampage, hellbent on the revenge that was singlemindedly driving him to kill. Akira had tried to make a human out of him, to undo the years that had molded him into who he was now. But love was selfish. And his idea of what a human was, was selfish.

“I think...everyone failed you. During that night at the casino I should have just said it, said what I felt because you were honest with how you felt but...” Akira was breathless. Voice uneven. Goro's face fell as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “I didn't. So I'll say it now. The truth was that I was scared to lose you. I'm...still scared to lose you. Even if you're still alive.” Akira clenched his jaw and forced himself to look Goro in the eyes. He recognized them, only a little. There was a little spark of the Goro he knew, in the very back, hidden behind that dark eclipse. He was trying to reach for it but it was so far away. He grasped.

“Kill me if you want. But do it as yourself. Please.”

Goro seemed to be caught on a threshold again, as he often was. An impasse. Action and inaction. Power and weakness. Life and death. He had made all those decisions before, multiple times, and he always made the same decision. The decisions that got him to where he was right now. But this time, the fork in the road was larger. Scarier. He felt small.

At what seemed like an agonizingly slow pace, his grip on Akira's arm lessened, until his arm went limp and fell to his side. Goro stared at him, almost in disbelief. It was a sad look, one that made Akira's chest tighten. But he didn't dare look away or break his gaze. He couldn't.

“What are you doing to me?” Goro asked, voice so weak and quiet that Akira barely heard it. It wasn't a tone he had heard before. It belonged to another Goro, one that existed years ago. Younger, more scared. A lost boy. A boy who still thought he could be a white and gold clad hero, before he was thrust into the role of a villain.

“All I want is for this to stop,” Goro continued, voice breaking. He lost the strength to hold his head up and it fell. Akira could only see the top of his head, obscured by black metal. “This pain...I want it to go away.”

“Pain…?”

“All you do is remind me that there's nothing for me in this world,” he laughed and it was cut off by a sob. “You have people to go back to. I don't have anyone,” his head shook from left to right, slowly. “You have everything, and I have nothing. So how could I be happy with you?”

Akira cautiously put a hand under Goro's chin, then the other, even though it was weak and wet with blood. He lifted his head up. Goro let him. 

“You are one of the people I want to go back to.”

“Stop...”

“I mean it,” Akira's hands moved to his jaw and cradled it. He wished he could easily brush aside the sharp planes of the helmet surrounding his face, but it was a part of him. Painful, dangerous. To keep people away.

Goro grinned, pure despair. “How could you want to go back to someone like me? I don't deserve to live." He spoke as if he was swallowing poison. "You know, I really wanted you to stop me. I really wanted it to be you. I...I wanted the hero to prevail, and kill the villain,” tears flowed down his cheeks and he laughed. It was empty. “I wanted a hero to save me.”

“Goro...”

“But you can't waste time on me, you need to stop Shido, right? Your friends are waiting for you. So just go.” He closed his eyes and an alarming look of peace crossed his face. “Just go.”

Akira tilted Goro's head downward, and placed his forehead to his. No masks between either of them. No barriers.

Goro's skin was hot and clammy. Akira didn't mind. He closed his eyes too. “I don't need to be anywhere.” The past was growing further away at a very rapid pace and Akira felt like he would face oblivion and still not have spent enough time with Goro. There was still so much to do. More than what could fit into an autumn, maybe a lifetime.

Goro spoke first, to his surprise. Soft as a feather. "I miss it. The time we spent together. I felt normal."

"I miss it too," Akira replied, slowly. His eyes burned. "I want show you this new udon place, and watch more documentaries, and I'll make you coffee.”

“It's just a memory, Akira.”

“I'll make it exactly as you like it,” Akira continued, his voice falling to a whisper. The silence was so thick around them that the loudest thing was Goro's breathing. Slow and steady. His eyes were still closed but somehow he knew that Goro was happy, maybe even smiling that rare genuine smile he kept hidden. “A little sweet.”

“...made with a lot of patience.”

“Yeah.” Akira blinked away tears. “That's the secret.”

\-------------------------

March brought rain with it, and rain meant lots of customers seeking solace from the cold in a cup of coffee or plate of curry. Sojiro commented that it was a pity he was going back home soon, as he had only _just_ gotten decent at brewing good coffee. Akira had begun keeping a tally of the things he was going to miss, and those sorts of quips were embarrassingly near the top.

Normalcy was returning. He was happy to be rid of palaces and thievery. Saving people was a risky business and it didn't always pay off. And, perhaps, not everyone needed to be saved. Or wanted to. Being a Phantom Thief was audacious. You had to act like you knew what was best for everyone else. 

Even if you didn't.

Akira stared past the customers, out the window where the rain was beating down on the panes. It reminded him of several special nights with someone wrapped up in him. In his mind it was just a person, an acquaintance.

Nowadays, reminiscing and nostalgia felt like a knife that dug a little further into him with each passing day. The past grew larger and larger, and the memories pushed further and further back, until there were more days without than days that had been with.

He hadn't seen him again after that.

He didn't chase him. He didn't hunt him. He just disappeared.

That boy had been toeing the precipice of chaos for too long. He had probably walked right off the edge, into the nothingness. Maybe it was more peaceful to let the darkness he'd sowed consume him, rather than to continue living with it, facing it everyday in the mirror.

_What was his name, again?_

The knife twisted.

Saving people wasn't worth it.

Akira placed a bag of coffee back on its place on the shelf. The customers were dwindling as the skies grew darker, and the rain was reduced to a mere drizzle. Sojiro came around the corner and told him to close up shop, and don't think you can slack off just because you're out of here soon. Akira nodded silently, and Sojiro left.

Akira turned back to the shelves and continued re-arranging and re-stocking the coffee. There was still the rice to replenish, and the dishes to wash, not to mention all the packing he had to—

The bell above the front door jingled. He had forgotten to turn the open sign to closed. Hands full of coffee, Akira called over his shoulder.

“Sorry, we're closed for the night.”

There was the sound of an umbrella being dropped into the stand by the door. Footsteps made the short journey from the doorway to the stool at the very end of the counter. Akira sighed. One more cup of coffee couldn't hurt, it was cold outside after all.

He dusted his hands off on a towel, and turned around. “Well, what can I get for y—“

_Ah._

The noise in Leblanc seemed to be sucked out of the room. The chatter of the TV, the hiss of the coffee machine, the pitter patter of rain outside. His head was buzzing with noise, and stars lit up in the corners of his vision, like a pleasant dizziness.

He saw a smile, and a familiar feeling washed over him. It felt like an unseasonably warm autumn day. It felt like a skipped heartbeat. It felt like the weight of a body in his arms, or hands around his shoulders, it was euphoric and calm. It felt like home.

For the first time since the rainy season started, Leblanc was filled with sunlight.

“Hello, hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i usually love tragedy and sad endings but........there's enough of that in canon. and im a total sap for these two ＿ﾉ乙(､ﾝ､)_ i want the boys to be happy. goro is for ｈｅａｌｉｎｇ.  
> thank you all so much for your kind and helpful comments ❤️ as well as views and kudos. they really meant a lot to me, and i truly appreciate it!


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